


Nice Girls

by detective_terrible_detective



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Acceptance, Aslan being a dick, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Denial, F/M, I’m sleep deprived, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Susan being sick of his shit, The Problem of Susan, who needs tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 19:05:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17371643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detective_terrible_detective/pseuds/detective_terrible_detective
Summary: “Nice girls don’t ask questions,” that was what they told her.-In which Susan Pevensie lives up to the expectations the world places on her shoulders, no matter what.





	Nice Girls

 

She was taught never to question anything. “Nice girls don’t ask questions,” that was what they told her. And since she was a nice girl, she never had.

She hadn’t questioned it when Father told them he had to go away, that he had to go and fight, not like Mother, who had told him she wished he wasn’t going. Not like her siblings, who had begged him not to go, not where it was dangerous, not where he might never come home to them again. She had simply sat in her chair at the table, her hands clasped before her, her lips pressed together into a firm line. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls listened to their fathers.

She hadn’t questioned it when Mother sent them away to the countryside, not like Peter, who had wanted to stay where the action was. Not like Edmund, who hadn’t wanted to deal with all the bother. Not like Lucy, who hadn’t wanted to leave Mummy all on her own, without even Father to keep her company. She had accepted it, because Mother had said so, and so it must be. She had led her crying sister to the bedroom they shared and dried her tears. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls did as their mothers told them.

She hadn’t questioned it when the beaver they found in the woods told them that they must go to the lion. Not like Edmund, who had run away, run to join his witch and become a Prince. She had continued on with her meal, and, when the time came, she ran with them. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls didn’t argue with strangers.

She hadn’t questioned it when her siblings forgave Edmund. Not like the rest of the Narnians, who, long after the war's end, whispered behind closed doors of the Just King’s betrayal. Not like Jadis herself, who had marched into their camp to claim their brother’s life. She had agreed with her siblings, sitting together in the grass next to the camp. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls always forgave their brothers.

She hadn’t questioned it when they crowned her, she and her siblings, the four child rulers. Not like the Calormen, who told tales of the savage lands in the North, where four children resigned over ungodly demons and devils, all worshipping a horrific Lion. She had just bowed her head and received the crown they gave her. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls did what was expected of them.

She hadn’t questioned it when, after the long, golden years of their reign, they found themselves back in England. Not like Lucy, who had cried and pleaded with Aslan to take them back. Not like Peter, who hadn’t cried, but had wanted to. Not like Edmund, who had believed it was his punishment, the brutal consequence of his betrayal. She had simply picked herself up from the floor and brushed off her skirt. She had fetched the professor and told him that they wouldn’t be coming to dinner, that they were quite alright, and that they just wanted some time to themselves. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls didn’t sit around feeling sorry for themselves.

She hadn’t questioned it when the war ended and they were sent back home. Not like Lucy, who, after all the pain she had felt leaving Mummy on her own, hadn’t wanted to leave her beloved Narnia behind, even if it was just a wardrobe. She had left Lucy sitting in the spare room with the wardrobe, and had packed both of their things. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls looked after their little sisters.

She hadn’t questioned it when Aslan has plucked them from the train station and flung them back to Narnia. Not like Trumpkin, who had taken a fair few attempts to convince him before he believed it. She had saved him from the Telmarines who tried to kill him, and agreed to help Prince Caspian save Narnia from the tyranny of his uncle Miraz. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls always helped those who needed it.

She hadn’t questioned it when Aslan told them that she and Peter were never to return to Narnia. Not like Peter, who had stood there in a dumb shock, his mouth gaping in disbelief. Not like Caspian, who told her that they would meet again someday. She had nodded her head, telling herself that it was for the best, and that Aslan had his own reasons for doing things. She hadn’t looked back when she stepped through the tree, not even when she felt Caspian’s eyes on her back. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls always believed people were telling the truth.

She hadn’t questioned it when Mother decided to take her to America with she and Father. Not like Edmund, who complained long and loud about the unfairness of it all. Not like Father, who thought it better she stay in England, until Mother won him over, convincing him that she would be of better use in America, meeting people and making connections for the family, than she would be at school in England. She had just smiled her pretty, air-headed smile, nodding her head and adjusting her hat. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls always went along with what other people wanted.

She hadn’t questioned it when Edmund and Lucy told her they had returned to Narnia, along with their vile cousin Eustace, of all people. Not like Peter, who kept her awake the long nights he paced her room, muttering more to himself than her about the injustice of it all. She had kept silent, listening to him talk, but never saying anything, not even joining Peter in a prayer to Aslan, one asking him to take them back to Narnia. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls never asked for favours.

She hadn’t questioned it when she was accepted into secretarial school. Not like the old men who lived on their street, who muttered about modern women, and their wild and worldly ways. Not like Father, who doubted her ability to keep a job. She had written back to the school, thanking them for admitting her. She had gone to the school, and worked, harder than she had in a long time, perhaps the last time being in Narnia, where she had ruled a country. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls never took things for granted.

She hadn’t questioned it when they all got on the trains. Not like Jill, who always felt ill at the motion of the train. She had listened whilst Peter talked on the phone, and had politely declined his invitation to join them. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls didn’t intrude where they weren’t welcome.

She hadn’t questioned it when the officials told her that there had been a crash, that she was the last Pevensie of them all. Not like other grieving relatives, who cried and screamed and denied it all, trying to convince themselves that it wasn’t true, and that their loved ones weren’t dead. She had stood on her doorstep, and thanked them for telling her in a voice that was small, but ever-failingly polite. She had closed the door, shutting out all of her curious neighbours who peeled through lace curtains and stained glass, and called the office where she worked to inform them that she would be taking the day off. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls never burdened other people with their emotions.

She hadn’t questioned it when the first well-wisher had appeared at the door, bearing a pot full of food and a mournful expression. Not like Aunt Alberta, who threw the well-meaning woman who appeared on her doorstep out in her ear, the roast she had been bearing following quickly after. She had thanked her for the kind thought, and asked her would she like to come in out of the cold? Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls always accepted other people’s condolences.

She hadn’t questioned it when Walter proposed to her. Not like Lucy would have, all blushing cheeks and shy denial. Not like Tehara, when Peter had proposed to her on the deck of the Splendor Hyaline, with the whole court watching on, unable to believe herself worthy of a King. She had smiled down at him, and kissed him soundly, saying she would, of course she would. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls never refused a gentleman.

She hadn’t questioned it when the doctor told her she was carrying a child. Not like Polly, who had denied it, hiding her shame from the world. She had smiled serenely, and told the doctor she couldn’t be happier. She had told Walter, and he had been overjoyed, the way only prospective parents could be, and she had placed a hand on the belly that was still flat and knew she would love the child there. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls wait until marriage.

She hadn’t questioned it when her eldest daughter died of a fever. Not like William, who sometimes started to talk to Irene, and then stop, all of a sudden, when he realised she wasn’t going to talk back. She had kept going with her life, had kept moving forwards and onwards. She had locked the door to Irene’s room with a sort of callous finality, sealing it away from the rest of the world. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls took whatever life threw at them.

She hadn’t questioned it when Uncle Harold asked to come live with them, after Alberta died. Not like Thomas, who hadn’t wanted to share his home with a grumpy old man. Not like Otto, who refused to enter any room Harold occupied, instead barking at him from the doorway. She had told Harold he was welcome, that he was to stay as long as he wanted, that their home was always open to him. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls don’t abandon family.

She hadn’t questioned it when Delilah eloped, running away from her mother and father, escaping the bonds of being the youngest child. Not like Walter, who had collapsed into his favourite armchair from the shock, the complete and utter shock that Delilah would do such a thing. She had smiled in the fond way that mothers do, and had said that her youngest was a silly goose for doing such a thing, but she was old enough to decide things for herself. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls respect other peoples’ decisions.

She hadn’t questioned it when Walter died, peacefully in his sleep. Not like Francis, who thought that it was entirely to soon for his father to go. Not like Jack, who would still tell strangers about his brother who was a pilot, and who lived in London, forgetting that Walter didn’t live in London anymore, he didn’t live anywhere. She had cried for him, but not for too long, and only at the funeral. She had comforted their children; telling them that it was his time to go. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls accept the inevitable.

She had been an old woman when it first occurred to her to question something. A lion had appeared to her in a dream, a lion she hadn’t thought about since he took her family away. The lion had asked her to come with him, to leave her family behind. He told her about the heavenly world her siblings lived in, along with her parents, Caspian, all the friends they left behind in Narnia when Aslan sent them back to England. He told her all she had to do was say yes. She had looked at the lion the way she used to look at young men, both in Narnia and in England. Cocky young things, entirely too sure of themselves and of their ability to charm her into accepting whatever it was they were offering. She smiled her pretty smile at the lion, and said thank you, but no. Because Susan was a nice girl, and nice girls could say no, but only when it was absolutely necessary.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so it’s one in the morning and I have no idea where this came from. Well, I do, but I don’t know why. I suppose I needed somewhere to spill all my pent up feelings about Narnia and Susan and Aslan and all that jazz.  
> For anyone reading this that’s also read my Merlin AU series, I am planning on updating that at some point, but I’ve been busy writing other projects and none of my ideas seem right. Never fear, it’ll be updated at some point.  
> For those of you who have no idea what I’ve been rambling about, never mind. This piece will probably get several accompanying ones, because writing this sprouted potential for some others, mostly golden age ones, so keep an eye out for those.  
> As always, let you know what you thought in the comments - I love hearing people’s opinions and getting feedback on my work.


End file.
